The Long Way Home
by CompleteTrash
Summary: Teen!lock AU A bus ride home brings a fateful meeting closer together! And after the first spark all that is needed is some fuel to make a fire... My first attempt at posting something on here, not my first fanfiction- I just haven't been brave enough to put the others up! :')


John glanced around the busy space and sighed lightly. One seat left and he would be lucky if he got it because he could hear the lady that had ran over his foot with a pram handing over the money for her ticket.  
The windows of the bus were steamed up, the December air contrasting against the warmth of the amount of bodies in the small space. He shuffled over to the last seat left which was obviously going to be next to some weirdo. Just his luck. He glanced to the person.  
They looked like they belonged in a homeless shelter. He wore tattered black trainers with ripped black jeans, evidently not for fashion but because they were so worn. His hands were shoved in the pockets of the black zip up hoodie which had the hood pulled over his face with white earphones trailing up under the hood.  
John cleared his throat and the figure didn't move. He sighed and tried something more direct. "Do you mind?" He asked tiredly. The only response was the guy moving his lanky legs to make room for John who sat down.  
There was a moment of silence between the two. It stretched on. And suddenly.  
"Starbucks or Costa?" The voice of the man, he assumed, sitting next to him spoke up. It was a deep voice, the words were spoken quietly but it was slightly croaky, as if they had been crying or hadn't spoken in a while.  
"Sorry...what?" John frowned slightly, looking away from the aisle and to the person.  
This provoked a tiresome sigh. "Where do you work? Starbucks or Costa?"  
"Oh...erm..Costa..." John said hesitantly. "How did you-?"  
"Know? I didn't. I observed it." The person moved their head very slightly. John could now see a chin and lips from under the hood. The man's skin was pale, almost translucent and his lips formed a cupid's bow.  
"How did you _observe_ then?" He asked with a slight frown. One side of the lips turned up slightly as though it took effort.  
"You smell of coffee." He replied.  
"I don't understand."  
"I'm not surprised."  
"Okay Sunshine. How do you know I don't just like coffee?"  
He sighed deeply, a raven curl was lifted from under the hood and his hand subconsciously went to his pocket where John could see a pack of cigarettes poking out. "I'll tell you as long as you promise not hit me."  
"I won't. Does that usually happen?"  
He shrugged slightly and took in a sharp breath. "Sometimes." He breathed out and sat up a little straighter. Before John could say anything he started speaking. "You smell of coffee, but its purer- coffee beans and there are hints of other things in there. Something sweet. Cakes? So a cafe. You have a napkin tucked in your pocket with someone's number on it, obviously someone from where you work. And also- you have your name tag on still, John."  
John sat in silence for a moment until he regained composure. "That was..." The man tensed. "Incredible. But obvious when you say it."  
"Really?" The voice had a hint of surprise.  
"Absolutely amazing."  
"Oh..." He trailed off.  
John frowned slightly. "People hit you when you do that?"  
"Like I said. Sometimes." He said bluntly, obviously trying to end the conversation but John wasn't having any of it.  
"So you know my name, what's yours?" He pressed, provoking another sigh. "Sherlock." Came the short answer.  
"Sherlock? That's..."  
"Awful. It was the best choice I had." Sherlock said and glanced out the window then back to John.  
His hood slipped slightly back and John could see the rest of his face. His eyes were a piercing sea blue colour. But that wasn't what drew his attention the most, nor was it the way the dark bags under the eyes gave the impression he hadn't slept for days nor the way his cheekbones were so prominent it was hard to imagine he ever ate. It was the large bruise that was beginning to blossom over his pale face the purples and reds a stark contrast against the white of his skin. Sherlock quickly pulled his hood down again.  
John's heart skipped a beat. "What-"  
"Leave it?" He muttered.  
He hesitated but decided not press it. Instead he focused on something else. "How old are you? Because you could be in your early twenties but..."  
"But?" Sherlock questioned.  
"Your eyes look older but you don't...you still have that look about you to say you're younger."  
He couldn't help but smile slightly. "So your guess is?"  
"My guess is twenty-one...or twenty two?"  
"Wrong."  
"Really?"  
"Yes."  
"So higher...?"  
"No. I'm seventeen."  
John was shocked. "Seventeen? Jesus. You look at least twenty"  
"I suppose I should take that as a compliment?" He smirked.  
"I would." John smiled slightly. He looked over at Sherlock again, taking in the new information. He noticed Sherlock had taken one of the earphones out but couldn't say when. He bit his lip as his eyes trailed over Sherlock, taking in the bony wrists and fingers, and felt the need to ask. "When did you last sleep...or eat?" He said slowly.  
"What day is it?"  
"Saturday." John answered. That was already a bad sign.  
"Last slept...erm...Thursday? Or was it Wednesday...but I ate on Wednesday definitely." He said, that wasn't bad for him.  
"You're kidding?" John let out a breath "Okay. When do you have to be home?" Wondering why his parents didn't do anything and then remembering that it wasn't his business even if he was worried Sherlock as if he were a friend.  
"I don't." He said  
"Okay." John found some money. "Get something to eat before you go home." He tried to hand it over but Sherlock refused.  
"I have enough. And if I wanted someone to babysit me then I would talk to my brother." He muttered and leant against the window. John frowned and went to say something but his phone started ringing, bursting the bubble of what was going on and pulling him back to the surroundings of the cramped bus. He scrambled to answer it. After telling his Mum he was on his way home he hung up.  
"Your mum?" Sherlock asked, his tone was almost envious but John was sure he must he mistaken.  
"Yeah...worrying." He smiled slightly and decided to change the subject. "So where are you going...?"  
Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not sure."  
"Right..." He frowned, grasping at things to keep it going. "You said you had work; what do you do?" Sherlock just looked away and John sighed as he glanced out the window and realised it was his stop. "Take care Sherlock." He murmured and paused before scribbling something down on the edge of the napkin the girl hadn't used. "Call me if you need anything?"  
"What would I need from you?" He muttered, coming out a little harsher than intended.  
"Nothing. Nothing at all." He sighed and headed to the door.  
The doors closed behind him with a quiet puff of air and the bus pulled away, not before John caught sight of Sherlock leant against the window again, eyes narrowed as he watched John.

 **This is a complete test, there are definitely issues with it! I don't know if the story will be continued but I have ideas so maybe? Anyway, let me know what you think I guess? :) x**


End file.
